


Protection Command

by athenaeums



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, British Politics, But still... angst, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Friends to Enemies, Getting Together, I know it's an AU but I feel like I need to make that clear, Jaime Lannister Lives, No Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-05-12 14:45:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19231243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athenaeums/pseuds/athenaeums
Summary: "As he left the office, he found the competitive streak that had escaped him mere moments before. Because he knew exactly who Renly’s personal security was and he knew exactly how much she hated him. He was determined not to let Brienne Tarth force him out quietly."There is a whisper, one said to be from the Lannisters themselves, gaining speed in Parliament and becoming more dangerous day-by-day. This really isn't the time for someone to challenge Jaime for his job but that's exactly what Brienne has decided to do.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Characterisation is (sadly) based on the show because I'm not that far into the books yet. Enjoy!

“Robert has asked me to be his Deputy Prime Minister,” Tywin said, his face blank and his tone dead. “When he gets elected.”

Jaime was floored. He felt like he was outside of his body – because in what world would the Lannister name be allowed anywhere near Downing Street ever again?

“He wants you in charge of his personal security,” Tywin finished and fixed him with a look. The look told him that there was no choice, that this was an honour he didn’t deserve, that he had better accept. Jaime had a feeling that the alternative was prison, but there was a part of him that wondered if he didn’t deserve a stretch inside after the sacrifice he made, the choice he made on behalf of anyone’s god, the natural order of things or Aerys himself.

“Others will apply,” Jaime tried to reason. “He can’t just _give it to me_.”

“Of course,” Tywin sighed. “But who has more experience than you?”

“Experience of what?” Jaime scoffed before he could help himself. “What use is protecting the Prime Minister from the outside if the real threat is next to him the whole time?”

“Quiet,” Tywin ordered, and Jaime obeyed. They said no more on the subject and after another half an hour of one-sided discussion, Jaime was dismissed.

***

Robert Baratheon was something completely new, of that the whole country was sure. Running with his newly formed New Conservative party with his “New Beginnings” campaign slogan, he fended off the competition from Daenerys Targaryen and her Labour Party and he was due to visit the Queen any minute to request permission to form a government. Politics was in disarray and to the Opposition’s dismay, the name Lannister was written all over it.

“Jaime,” Robert called him into his office at Downing Street. “We’ve got a problem.”

“Yes, sir?” Jaime closed the door behind him.

“None of that now, come on,” Robert laughed. “I’m married to your bloody sister.”

Images of the day Robert and Cersei had posed outside the door to 10 Downing Street, the day he won the election, flashed before Jaime’s eyes in quick succession. They had looked happy, and excited, and a picture-perfect fresh new couple for the country to fall in love with. Jaime could have almost shuddered at the reality.

“You’ve got competition for your post,” Robert explained. “Someone else has been recommended.”

“Who?” Jaime didn’t mind. He didn’t feel qualified for the role; he didn’t feel worthy of the responsibility. He’d be happier to hand it over to a better candidate – not that he could tell Robert or his father that. Or Cersei. He had tried, a few days previous, and she’d barely acknowledged his concerns. Apparently, it was beneficial for them both that he stayed exactly where he was.

“I can’t tell you her name here,” Robert sighed. But Jaime’s interest was certainly piqued. “But I’ll tell you that she’s been working at the Home Secretary’s office running security for a few years now.”

“She works for your brother?”

“Yeah. Push comes to shove, she’ll probably want to stay with him but we have to at least give her an interview.”

“Of course,” Jaime smiled. “Just set the date, it’s not a problem.”

But as he left the office, he found the competitive streak that had escaped him mere moments before. Because he knew exactly who Renly’s personal security was and he knew exactly how much she hated him.

He was determined not to let Brienne Tarth force him out quietly. She knew what she thought she knew, just like everyone else. She had been there that day, on _the_ day, but she still thought she possessed the truth of the matter. She still thought she was morally superior to him. If it had been Renly, if it had been anyone she was supposed to be protecting, she would have to question what she thought she knew and pay attention to what Jaime was trying to tell her instead.

He was ready to prove her wrong.

***

Cersei Baratheon had barely been in 10 Downing Street five minutes before she was ordering her staff to move her to Chequers, the Prime Minister’s country estate.

“I don’t wish to stay here,” she insisted, and Robert didn’t argue.

“Mrs Baratheon-” a daring maid tried to speak, but a single glare shut her down.

She pressed her hand to her pregnant front. “The baby shouldn’t be brought up in such a place.”

“Let her do what she wants,” Robert said, nonchalant. Jaime’s brow creased but Robert missed it completely. Robert was disinterested, Jaime had to appear disinterested. “If she wants to live out in the countryside, so be it.”

So that is where Jaime found her. The Lannister coat-of-arms was hung above the sturdy and aged front door, completely ignoring the Baratheon name his sister now held – the Baratheon name that was the most powerful in the country. _Don’t be so stupid, Jaime_ , his sister would say, _Lannister is the name they all fear_.

“Robert will be here tomorrow,” he announced as he entered Cersei’s living quarters. “In case he didn’t text.”

“Why would he?” Cersei sighed. “Power has changed him.”

“You married him for his power.”

“I married him before he had power,” she corrected. “I just hoped he would get it.”

“And now you complain?”

“Sure,” she shrugged. “Do you think I should have married him for love? Or married you?”

She was mocking him, he knew it, but he couldn’t back away. Not when she was only living at Chequers because of him – or so she said. Cersei was always quick to catch people out but having her out in the countryside and away from the action, without a single suspicion, might have been Tywin’s biggest achievement yet.

“You’re being ridiculous,” he said, rubbing a hand across his forehead. A dull pounding commenced above his eyebrows. “Have you eaten? You have a baby to feed.”

Cersei smiled but it wasn’t sweet, and it wasn’t pleasant. It was wicked and cold.

“What do you care about my child?”

“That child is my niece or nephew,” Jaime said. “I would quite like to meet them knowing they’re not malnourished or being taken away by Social Services. Do you want me to get the staff to cook something or shall I pick up a takeaway?”

“Do you want to take my child?”

“Cersei, please,” Jaime breathed, pressing at his temple with his left hand. “Stop.”

The same conversation, forever looping and coming back on itself. Jaime held her after her first miscarriage, and he was there for her during the next. He looked at her swollen belly, at her third attempt, and wondered if the baby wasn’t an actual miracle. He knew it was wrong but sometimes he indulged Cersei’s fantasy that the baby was conceived as Aerys fell -

“I think you should go home now,” she said. There was a finality to her tone, and he knew that was that.

He picked up his jacket and made for the door before remembering what he was really there to say.

“I might not be around here for much longer,” he called and rolled his eyes at the swift pounding of feet on the floor that followed him.

Cersei appeared wildly before him. “Why?”

“Someone else has applied for the job,” he shrugged. “She might get it, I guess.”

“She?”

“Brienne,” Jaime explained. “Renly’s bodyguard.”

“Then we’ll have to make sure she doesn’t get the chance,” Cersei sneered. “That great lumbering cow. Who does she think she is?”

“I would imagine she thinks she’s someone better qualified than the other candidate, on account of not killing her previous boss,” Jaime said sarcastically, and he was immediately greeted by a slap. It whipped across his face and left his skin tingling and burnt. There were regular reporters outside – he imagined the headlines that would appear from the perfect handprint searing his cheek.

“Quiet,” Cersei ordered, and Jaime obeyed.

***

“Still here, Lannister?” a broad accent asks as it walks past him through the doors of Downing Street.

“Of course, Minister,” Jaime smiles, sickly sweet and fake. “The Prime Minister hasn’t found reason to remove me from my position just yet.”

“I’m sure it won’t take long to find one,” Ned Stark, Secretary of State for Scotland, sneered and tried to move past him but Jaime grasped his upper arm with his one good hand.

“Is that a threat, sir?” he said quietly into Stark’s ear as he held him close.

“I guess you’ll have to wait and see,” Ned removed Jaime’s hand from his arm and brushed down his sleeve.

“Then I guess we’ll also have to see how quickly your Lordship comes around so you can take up your position in the Other Place and leave us all here to do the real work.”

Jaime ushered him through with a smile and Ned begrudgingly made his way toward the Cabinet Office.

Ned Stark was almost a permanent thorn in Jaime’s side – he always seemed to be there, ready to cast aspersions on him, always so suspicious. He can’t blame him. When Ned Stark caught him sneaking back into Downing Street with a blood-spattered shirt and hysteria in his eyes, what else was he to think? It’s not something he ever thought about until Robert was elected and appointed Ned to his cabinet. He barely remembered Ned seeing him at all, only remembered the look on Brienne’s face when she walked through the door –

But Ned made sure he didn’t forget. Honourable and good Ned Stark wasn’t minded to ever let Jaime forget a single detail of that day.

“ _Don’t worry, Ned,_ ” Jaime remembered saying that day. “ _Good Ned, Honourable Ned. Don’t worry. It will all be okay._ ”

He remembered the tears that pricked so easily behind his eyes as Ned had alerted the police –

Jaime sighed and for a second wondered if Robert wouldn’t mind just giving the job to Brienne so he wouldn’t have to see Ned Stark and his frowning, disappointed face ever again.

“That didn’t look too civil,” Renly Baratheon, Home Secretary, had followed Ned into the foyer and handed over his security pass to be checked. It was pointless, they all knew who everyone was, and Jaime was the first to be briefed on any changes to Cabinet, but with one Prime Minister dead they were on red alert and the country was on an even higher threat level. All because of him: Jaime Lannister – the stupidest Lannister, his father’s disappointment.

“Oh, that’s normal,” Jaime grinned. “It’s just how the Scottish Secretary likes to show his affection.”

“Careful, Jaime,” Renly laughed. “You’ll start rumours.”

“Right you are,” Jaime handed him back his pass and looked up to see that Renly wasn’t alone.

Brienne Tarth stood before him, pointedly avoiding his gaze. He didn’t know why he was so surprised. All Cabinet ministers had been asked to avoid even looking out of a window without a security guard present but when Ned Stark turned up alone – fully aware that the threat wasn’t as real as the country would believe – it slipped his mind momentarily.

“Miss Tarth,” Jaime presented his hand for her pass.

“You must be joking,” she rolled her eyes. “You know I’m authorised to be here. Move aside.”

Jaime stepped in her way and fixed her with a mischievous look in his eye. “That may be how you run things at the Home Office, and it’s disappointing to hear that standards have fallen so low, but I really must insist. This is Downing Street, Miss Tarth.”

“Isn’t this a little beneath your position?” she positively slapped her ID into his hand and Jaime took three times as long to look at it as he did Renly’s, refusing to let her get a rise out of him. She was right but he wasn’t about to give her any reason to be sure of it.

“Okay,” he went to pass it back when he was satisfied. “Please proceed.”

But he didn’t let go when she went to take it. He held onto his end just long enough to make her look at him again. He didn’t know why. He told himself it was to freak out the competition, but he knew it wasn’t. Her eyes betrayed her confusion, but he saw more than that in them – he saw a storm.

“Thank you ever so much,” Brienne said sarcastically and ripped it away from his hand. “You’re too kind.”

He didn’t miss the middle finger gesturing at him as she rounded the corner nor the snort of laughter coming from the next person waiting to be checked.

“Mr Pycelle,” Jaime glared at the Secretary of State for Health. “Your pass, please.”

***

Jaime’s mood was significantly altered by the time he made it home. He had three texts from Cersei waiting for him on his personal phone and two voicemails that he was sure could be traced to her. He switched it off and slumped onto the sofa, loosening his tie and kicking off his shoes. His feet ached from standing all day and not for the first time he wondered what it would be like to have someone to come home to, to rub his tired feet and ask him about his day. Someone to vent to after dealing with Mr Pycelle forgetting his ID card for the sixth time in as many weeks, even though he knows they’re on maximum security protocol. Even though he should be delegating the job to lower level members of staff. He wonders if having someone there would relieve any of the stress.

With little reason, his mind turned to the storm he saw in Brienne’s eyes earlier that day. He wondered if it was a general mood about the day because he thought he could relate.

Brienne Tarth.

Jaime might have known her name and he might have known her job title, but he really knew very little about her at all. He knew why she hated him – she was there on that day. The last day he lived without a target on his back, or a guilt threatening to bury him with the sheer weight of it. A year ago, Brienne Tarth had eagerly joined Protection Command at the Home Office, pinned to Renly Baratheon’s side every hour of the day as part of his personal security detail and so ready to believe the best in everyone around her.

He remembered the day he met her for the first time – the day Renly had attended Cabinet and coincidentally had also been one of the rare occasions Jaime had to cover his boss, Gerold Hightower. Renly was in the Cabinet room and Brienne was just outside, about as physically close to her subject as she could be at the time.

She was almost as tall as the doorways but not quite as broad. Jaime had found himself wondering what she would look like if she let her hair fall into her face, but instead it was pulled back into a bun that caused her to look much harsher than he probably thought she was. Nothing could make her eyes look ugly though, Jaime had thought to himself. He was almost glad of her hair being pulled back so he could gaze upon them as they bore holes through him, damning him.

“He’s perfectly safe in there,” Jaime sighed from where he sat on the windowsill on the other side of the room. “If you lean any harder against that door it’s going to form an indent in the very shape of you.”

Brienne rolled her eyes, but she did move herself to the chair waiting just to the side of the door instead.

“I’ve never seen a woman in protection of a Cabinet Minister before,” Jaime noted aloud, genuinely meaning to congratulate her on breaking new ground, but it was the wrong thing to say. She had already risen from her chair and walked over to him with purpose.

“I trained and worked for years to get here and I’ve heard everything there is to say about me – trust me,” she said quietly but with enough anger to tell Jaime to keep his mouth shut. “You’re not special.”

Jaime nodded with a degree of amusement. “Roger that, Tarth.”

“I do just as good a job as you,” she mumbled. “Probably better, to be honest.”

“You probably do,” he smirked. “Care to prove it?”

And she did. Several times. That was the start of Jaime and Brienne at the shooting range practicing their hits on target every week and Jaime was wholly unsurprised to find that every shot found its way to exactly where she intended it. He knew he was a poor aim since he lost his hand, but he still often found himself better than those he trained with before.

But since Aerys? Since she found him that day with his gun still warm in his hand? She hadn’t said a word to him. She’d barely looked at him.

 _You win some, you lose some_ , Jaime told himself at the memories flooding his brain. All the times he simply watched Brienne practice, tried to get some tips or tricks without directly asking her, the way he joked that he fully intended the shot to be in the upper arm and not in the head so what was she laughing about anyway?

She knew that the one shot he needed to count had hit right on target and she had never been able to forgive him.

He wondered, now that she was back in his life and his thoughts, if she could forgive herself.

He closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of his sofa. All he could see were blue eyes, as bright as sapphires, and he knew he wouldn’t sleep that night. She deserved his job. But what on earth would he do without it?

***

“Lannister!” Robert bellowed from his office with the door wide open. Jaime wondered if there was anyone left in Downing Street that hadn’t heard him. “Tywin is attending some community thing for me at the end of the week, do you think you could go with him?”

“And what will you be doing, sir?”

“None of your bloody business,” Robert laughed. “I’ll be fine, I’ll be with Cersei.”

Jaime’s blood ran cold at the thought. Did either of them know what they did to the other? It was as bad a pairing as he had ever seen but he had been powerless to stop it. Cersei had wanted it, once upon a time, and so Tywin made it happen. He wondered if Robert really thought he was safe, or if he knew he was doomed to be ruined by Cersei in the same way Cersei was slowly killing herself for Robert.

“Of course,” Jaime smiled. “She certainly can protect you.”

“Have you ever crossed her?” Robert raised a knowing eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Jaime said, dropping his smile completely.

“Exactly,” Robert sighed. “Anyway, I’m sorry for the short notice.”

“No problem. I’ll make arrangements right away.”

“Attaboy,” Robert smiled. It was a dismissal.

He pushed Cersei from his mind and made his way to the Cabinet offices to find his father. He wasn’t entirely sure that Tywin Lannister wouldn’t just duck out of a “community” event if Robert couldn’t be bothered to go but there was a suspicious side to Jaime’s mind that wondered if he would – if Tywin was perfectly positioning himself and his family to lead the country one day. Jaime had ruined it the moment he entered the Cabinet room and saw Aerys before him. Jaime was a fool sometimes, and sometimes the “stupidest Lannister” but he knew his father and he knew not to be complacent.

“…do what you have to do,” Tywin said quietly as Jaime arrived. Tywin’s office door was ajar and the desks outside the room abandoned. He hadn’t been spotted yet. But just as he was about to enter- “He must be convinced. Robert will always be seduced by absolute power.”

And Jaime knew what that meant. He had heard rumblings of it during meetings and dinners and joking comments about how the country should rid themselves of the monarchy many times in his life… but he’d never heard it quite like this.

“He’s coming to see you this weekend,” Tywin continued, still unaware that Jaime was just the other side of the door. “You can be persuasive, Cersei. This is a long game, but we all have to play our parts.”

The call ended and Jaime heard him sigh as he finally pushed the door open.

“What are you planning?” he insisted to know.

“How long have you been standing there?” Tywin didn’t bother to fix him with any kind of gaze, he just looked as he always did – with disappointment.

“That’s not what I asked,” Jaime pressed.

Tywin laughed a little as he sat in his chair and stared Jaime down. Jaime thought he looked old – he wondered if the stress of the past year had taken its toll, if Aerys’ death meant more to him than he had ever let on.

“I’m securing a legacy that this family can be proud of.”

“By giving it to Robert?”

“You’ve misunderstood,” Tywin laughed. “Can I trust you?”

“What kind of question is that?” Jaime’s loyalty to his family had never been questioned before. “You’re my father, my family. Of course, you can trust me.”

“Like Aerys trusted you?” Tywin smirked. As Jaime was about to protest, he continued. “I’m joking. That was your finest hour.”

“What are you planning with Cersei?” Jaime asked. “She shouldn’t be involved. Whatever you would have her do, ask me to do it instead.”

“She is uniquely positioned for this,” Tywin said. “She isn’t as bad as you think she is, Jaime.”

Jaime knew better than to disagree with him, but he knew he was wrong. If Tywin had paid half as much attention to Cersei as Jaime had, maybe he would see it. But he never had, and he never would. Cersei was his perfect, willing pawn. She would go where he told her, and she would marry Robert and she would become one of the most influential women in the country. But Jaime knew she had it in her to be something else.

Tywin looked at him for a moment, in silence. He took a deep breath, leaned back in his chair and delivered what Jaime was sure he already knew:

“Robert is going to end the monarchy and give Government absolute power.”

“And if he refuses?”

“He won’t.”

Just like that. It was as simple as that.

He thought of the day his life would be permanently changed, the day when he was the only person in charge of what was right or wrong. He wondered, if his father had succeeded sooner, would Aerys have also succeeded? Would they still be standing there to have this discussion of politics and plots and schemes…

“This is insane! This idea never takes off. You’re not the first and you won’t be the last to come up with it,” Jaime spat, suddenly less afraid. Anger rippled through him in a wave he couldn’t stop.

“Do you think so little of me?” Tywin was asking an unanswerable question. “We will all have our part to play and when this is done and we have succeeded, we will have everything we could ever want. _You_ will have everything you have ever wanted.”

Quite suddenly, he thought of the innocent people that would be caught up and swept aside by this insane plan. He wondered what the point of any of it was, as he remembered Aerys dying. He thought of his reputation, already in tatters, and let his mind dream of a life in prison where he could be away from all of this. He thought of blue eyes, desperate to climb higher and prove her worth in this corrupted and awful world. Was this who he wanted to be? None of it mattered. He couldn’t betray his family.

He opened his mouth for one last fight, one last shot to put his views forward in the futile hope that it might change something, but -

“Quiet, Jaime,” Tywin demanded. And Jaime obeyed.


	2. Two

Jaime wanted to be more focused on the day and on what was about to happen but all he could think of was ‘absolute power’ and all he could see was Cersei, inexplicably, sat at the head of a Government that couldn’t be ended. He knew his father’s plan would fail and it would bring about the demise of Robert Baratheon. There was no way Robert would ever be able to achieve the kind of heights Tywin was aiming for.

So how does a Prime Minister’s chief security personnel give said Minister enough rope to hang himself with and walk away with his head held high? His father was setting him up to fail. Tywin knew the public would never forgive Jaime for Aerys. What would they do when he had two Prime Minister’s dead on his watch? He would never see the outside of a prison ever again.

“Mr Lannister?” Robert’s secretary called to where Jaime was positioned outside the office door. “Ms Tarth is here.”

His heart dropped to his stomach. Robert was doomed. And if Robert – rightfully – chose Brienne to lead his security, she would go right down with him. Jaime would be ensuring she was collateral damage. Tywin and Cersei wouldn’t give it a second thought.

He coughed away the lump threatening to suffocate him in his throat. “Show her in,” he ordered. Brienne barely looked at him as she walked past and entered Robert’s office. Jaime couldn’t take his eyes off her.

***

“For goodness sake,” a voice sighed from the booth next to him as Jaime reloaded his gun. He had started to recognise the voice anywhere. At work, at the Home Office, in his sleep.

“Don’t leave on my account,” Jaime threw back casually as Brienne started to make for the door of the shooting range.

Jaime rarely encountered anyone there, but it was where he tried to retreat to clear his mind. He didn’t think he would ever feel clear or at peace again but practicing what he knew, ensuring his aim was perfect, couldn’t hurt. Security personnel were meant to practice regularly but he knew the only other person that actually did was the woman stood next to him. Jaime Lannister was famed for his perfect aim before he lost his hand, for never really needing to shoot more than once. It wasn’t a skill he got to use often but he was determined to rebuild it. He had worried, after Aerys had fallen, if the toll of what he had done might have affected his ability in the field even more. But as the bullet flew from the gun gripped firmly in his hand and sailed right through the forehead of the paper model in front of him, he knew he had nothing to worry about. He didn’t hit a perfect shot every time, or even most times, but he was getting there. He could almost live up to his old reputation.

“I’m usually here in the mornings,” Brienne offered in explanation. “You’re not usually here.”

“So you’re actively avoiding me?” Jaime smirked, leaning on the wall that separated their booths.

“I really don’t have anything to say to you,” Brienne focussed her aim and fired. She wasn’t perfect that day but she was close. The bullet flew through the shoulder of the model. It would have been enough to disarm an assailant. “Fuck.”

“Relax your shoulder,” Jaime tried but Brienne whipped around quickly and fixed him with a look that told him all he needed to know. He threw his hands up in defeat and moved back to his own spot. Frustration nagged in his brain and it wouldn’t let go. He fired three more practice shots, willing it to go away. It didn’t. “How did it go this morning?”

He glanced at her model and saw new bullet holes in the cheek, just left of the heart and one, perfectly shot in the middle of the neck. It would paralyse someone, ruin their life if it didn’t kill them. Jaime felt a thrill run down his spine. She could be dangerous when she wanted to be. She really could protect Robert.

“Fine,” was all she gave him. He put down his gun and moved back to her booth. He watched her reload and fire off a couple more shots. Her shoulders were relaxed, her stance was practiced, and her body was in good form, if more shapely than he remembered.

“You really don’t want to talk about it?” he pressed. Her back immediately tensed. She missed the next shot.

“Not with you.”

Jaime contemplated this for a moment. He remembered a time when she had plenty to talk about with him. A time when she rushed into a moment she couldn’t understand and found a thousand words to tell him. He wondered when she decided that wasn’t the case anymore. He knew, but he was desperate to hear her say it - say what she really thought of him.

“You used to talk to me, Brienne,” he tried softly.

“Barely,” she scoffed. She put down her gun and finally turned to look at him. “You used to have honour.”

“And that’s what you think of me now? That I’m a man without honour?” Jaime wasn’t smirking or smiling anymore. He felt under pressure. He felt a need growing need within him to fix whatever this was that he just couldn’t put a name to. And he had no idea why.

“What else do you call a man that murders someone in cold blood and then swans around without a care in the world?” Brienne sneered. “You’re without honour, or you’re a sociopath. Or both.”

The truth of what she felt rushed to his brain and rang in his ears. He wondered if he looked as pale as he felt as he leaned on the wall to regain his steadiness. He was dizzy. But she had no idea. She had no idea about anything.

“I admire these idealistic roles you hold people to, Brienne,” he said quietly. “I used to be like that. I used to see the people in roles higher than my own and wish I could be half as good as them.”

“You never will be,” Brienne answered. She didn’t care for his sob story - he could see it. She judged him months ago. She wasn’t interested in allowing him some redemption.

“Maybe not,” he shrugged, heart beating a little slower, hearing a little clearer. Head a little less foggy. “But I know what happened that day and if I could go back I’d do it all again.”

Brienne started but he didn’t let her finish.

“I’m not a sociopath. I’m not a man without regret or feeling,” he tried to explain, even though he knew it was futile. “I regret many things, but not that. I’ll never regret that.”

She just looked at him. He had expected to see a fire burning in the middle of her blue eyes, teeth bared while she snarls at him like an animal. But instead he just saw an unimpressed woman. A strong and determined but thoroughly unimpressed woman. He was almost disappointed but found that he was mostly relieved. Jaime acknowledged, with some surprise, that he could handle Brienne’s disappointment as he had for months now. But the thought of her hatred of him being so far gone that she could never see him any other way? That struck true fear in him.

“So how did this morning go?” he asked earnestly.

“You can never tell with Robert,” Brienne answered quietly after a long pause, picking up her gun again and turning to look back at the model. “But I think well.”

“I’m glad,” Jaime said with a small smile. Brienne looked back to arch her eyebrow. “Really.”

She nodded and looked away. “Unemployment wouldn’t suit you.”

Jaime laughed with a sincerity he hadn’t felt in a long time. No one could make him truly laugh anymore. He laughed at Robert more than with him, his father had no real sense of humour and the days of laughing along with Cersei were long gone. She barely knew how to find anything funny without perceiving it as a threat anymore. And Tyrion… Jaime had not had any reason to laugh in a long time.

He knew Brienne had thought of a time when Jaime had taken a hit and had to spend a couple of months out of service. He knew she remembered just how insufferable he had been, just how many times she had to usher him away from the Government buildings. He had driven her mad. He wished she could know what he came back to. What Aerys was already doing in his absence. What his half-hearted replacement had allowed to thrive.

“You might be right,” he smiled.

“I know I am,” Brienne sighed and fired a perfect hit right in between the model’s eyes.

***

When Robert called him in to meet with him first thing the next morning, he knew what he was going to hear before he even arrived.

“Jaime, my man,” Robert forced out without any of his usual performance. Jaime thought he was about to be told someone had died, such was the tension when he entered the room.

“Yes, sir,” Jaime smiled. Robert winced.

“As you know we interviewed Miss Tarth yesterday,” Robert sighed, taking his seat and gesturing towards one of the empty ones. Jaime obliged. “She did very well, and she’s done an excellent job heading up the Home Office.”

“I am well aware that Miss Tarth is a stellar Officer, sir,” Jaime answered. He wasn’t even lying. He had never deigned to tell Brienne, but he had often marvelled at her skill and professionalism. She carried herself in a way he only hoped he could when he first joined the force and later the Protection Command. “She has exceeded expectations.”

“Aye, she has,” Robert smiled. “My advisers want me to appoint her after a brief but essential handover period. I’m sorry, Jaime.”

Jaime’s mind immediately provides an image of Tywin, disappointed and resigned. “All your advisers?”

Robert laughed. “No, not all my advisers. But enough of them to outnumber your father.”

“I don’t believe in nepotism, Robert,” Jaime barely smiled.

“Cersei will go mad,” Robert said, staring at Jaime with a dare in his eyes. He was daring him to speak, to say what none of them had wanted to say for a long time now. But he didn’t.

“Have you told Miss Tarth the news?” he asked instead.

Robert nodded.

As Jaime left the office and sat at his desk, he took a breath and noted that it didn’t feel laboured anymore. He was supposed to be devastated that he had lost his job, that he was facing unemployment or worse – a demotion. But he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was breathing a little lighter, thinking a little clearer and despite the looks Robert’s secretary was giving him from across the room, he couldn’t pull the smile from his face.

He never deserved to be where he was. He was never tried for Aerys. This was his penance.

He dialled an extension without thinking about it, without looking it up.

“Brienne Tarth,” a voice answered, stiff and awkward. “Home Office.”

“Congratulations,” Jaime smiled, dragging the word out as far as he could before he heard the tell-tale huff on the other end.

“Thank you,” she acknowledged but left it there.

“You’re going to be seeing a lot more of me for the next few weeks,” Jaime grinned. “Bet you can’t wait!”

“What are you talking about?” she tried to sound bored, but he could hear the interest in her tone.

“Handover period, Miss Tarth,” Jaime laughed. “I’m not handing over the reins to an amateur.”

“You sound suspiciously happy about all this.”

“And you sound depressed,” he sighed. “You got the job. Be happy.”

“I’ll be happy when the job is truly mine. If spending a few weeks with you is what it takes to get there, so be it,” she decided, and Jaime wanted to hit his head against the desk. They were too far gone. She would never forgive him. She would never understand.

“Brienne,” he almost whispered.

There was a pause and then – “What?”

A beat and then – “I miss having a proper conversation with you.”

“Well,” Brienne coughed. “I miss having a proper conversation with Jaime Lannister. Not whoever you think you are now.”

“What does that mean?” he demanded to know.

“Goodbye, Jaime,” Brienne said but she hadn’t quite hung up.

“What does that mean, Brienne?” he insisted but all he got was a deep breath, an exhale, and a click telling him that the call was over.

***

“How could you let this happen?” Cersei’s tone was venomous. She had almost hissed when Jaime arrived at Chequers later in the week with the news. She was clutching her stomach – Jaime wondered if she would suffocate the child through her smothering before the poor thing was even born. “We had everything.”

“I’m sorry?” Jaime was beginning to grow frustrated. Tywin had let this go too far, he’d filled her head with delusions and let them manifest into something poisonous. Something dangerous. “I had no control over this. Robert made his choice.”

“And you couldn’t get rid of the competition? You’ve done it before,” she fixed him with a gaze that made his blood run cold. He knew what she thought of Aerys. Cersei had praised him tenfold after the event because she thought he had done it for them, for Robert, for the Lannisters and their eventual rise to power. But she had no idea. She would never understand. In that, he couldn’t help but compare her to Brienne, but the thought left a nasty taste in his mouth. Brienne could never be like Cersei. He had to believe that Brienne would at least try to listen should the opportunity arise but Cersei? She would never understand reason or logic or the magnitude of what that decision had done to Jaime. She wouldn’t even try.

“Listen to yourself,” he said sadly, meeting her gaze and pointing at her stomach. “What are you doing?”

“Robert will put the wheels in motion through Parliament and father will support it. Who will protect the both of them from those that threaten them? Because they will,” Cersei spat. “They will come for them. Do you think Brienne will step in to save them when the naysayers and the usurpers arrive? Do you think she has it in her to protect my husband _no matter what_?”

“Absolutely,” Jaime said without any hesitation. “She believes in her duty and honour. She would never let Robert come to harm. God knows she’s got Renly out of a few scrapes.”

“I don’t think she does,” Cersei snarled. She was the one baring her teeth. She was animalistic in her bite as her teeth snapped on her words and her eyes squinted as though she couldn’t stand to look at him. It seemed foreign that Jaime would ever expect Brienne to have reacted the same way. Just like it was foreign for her to be so present on his mind. “If we lose everything it will be because of you. If I lose my husband and my father, it will be on you. You’re so stupid, Jaime. You never see the bigger picture.”

“You’re not going to lose anybody, Cersei,” Jaime answered softly, reaching for her hand but it stayed firm on her stomach. “Don’t worry so much. It’s not good for the child.”

Cersei laughed and turned to leave the room. On her way she got one more shot in.

“What the hell would you know? You wouldn’t have the first idea about what’s good for any child, let alone mine.”

He felt the stab in his chest before she had even finished her sentence. One more shot but it was the most painful.

***

It was the day before Brienne was due to join Jaime for their handover and Tywin was rattled. Jaime wasn’t sure he had ever seen him like it.

“I didn’t think Robert would actually appoint another,” he muttered as he searched through his files, Jaime didn’t know what for.

“It was always a possibility,” Jaime shrugged. “The jobs go to advert, anyone can apply. I was never guaranteed to have it forever.”

“Yes,” Tywin answered through gritted teeth. “You were.”

“Oh,” was all he could say in response.

“It was Ned Stark. Robert had barely mentioned the girl’s interview and Stark practically had a Powerpoint presentation ready to highlight all your worst features.”

Jaime couldn’t help but laugh which was met with a wild gaze.

“Ned Stark has never been my biggest fan,” he insisted. “He hated me before and now he’ll hate me forever.”

“Maybe we can get you in the Cabinet instead.”

Tywin Lannister would do anything for his legacy, for his family’s dynasty. It was something Jaime had never understood. Jaime was supposed to be a politician and rise to the highest office. Cersei was always supposed to marry someone destined for great things. It’s just the way it was always meant to be.

So, this sudden turn was of no surprise to Jaime. If he had been removed from Protection Command, his father would always have a Plan B.

“You need to be elected to be in the Cabinet. Last I checked, no one voted for me.”

“There will be by-election at the Rock soon, you can stand as our candidate,” Tywin never showed emotion, but Jaime could have sworn he saw glee in his cold eyes at the thought.

“No.”

Anything Jaime thought he saw in his father’s eyes instantly drained.

“Excuse me?” Tywin asked slowly.

“No. I don’t want this. I want to train Brienne and handover and just walk away,” Jaime sighed, realising the moment he said it that it was true. He just wanted it all to stop.

“While you are a Lannister you will do what I tell you,” Tywin’s delivery was careful and measured but Jaime could see the rage bursting under his skin.

“Well,” Jaime stood and made to leave his father’s office. “I guess we’re done here.”

He didn’t get an answer. Just a vague gesture in the direction of the door as Tywin shuffled through his files once more. His façade was cracking just a little. Jaime glanced back as he closed the door behind him and saw his father with his head in his hands looking every year as old as he was.

As he made his way back to his desk, he pulled out his mobile and dialled a number he was still surprised he knew. The call was answered in two rings.

“Brienne?” he asked before she could even say hello.

“Yes?”

“Tomorrow, when you come in,” he swallowed away his fear and pushed the lump in his throat firmly down. “I want to tell you what happened that day.”

“What are you talking about?” Brienne said after a short pause.

“The day Aerys died,” he said just above a whisper. “I want to tell you everything.”

Jaime was going to find out if she would _try_.

He had to know if she would at least _try_ to understand.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't usually do AU's but I started thinking about how these characters would fit within the batshit British political world and before you knew it, I had 10 chapters outlined and a story asking to be written. British Politics is dull af but please bear with it. Less politics, more drama is the mantra I'm sticking with.


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